


let there be no space between us

by marvelleous



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Space Reunion Fic, Space flangst, my 50th fic :), season five, theres a fair bit of kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-11
Updated: 2017-08-19
Packaged: 2018-12-12 09:25:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11734188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marvelleous/pseuds/marvelleous
Summary: It takes seven months, three days, eighteen hours and twenty-two minutes for Melinda and Phil to be reunited. Though the hardest part is now over, they both come to realise that things aren't as easy as they seem.





	1. Chapter 1

It's been six months, seventeen days, four hours and fifty-two minutes since the moment that Coulson vanished. Daisy doesn't remember much of that day past suddenly waking in an empty field, Fitz’s terrified voice in her ear, shouting that their former director was nowhere to be seen. More than half a year has passed since then, since Coulson was presumably taken from them by those men at the diner, leaving their team with no leader in their biggest time of need.

They had nowhere to go, no one to turn to, no place in society and no reassurance that they could fight on.

All they had, all they clung onto, all that they still hold on to, is a shred of hope, that Phil Coulson is out there, somewhere, and they'll be damned if they don't get him back.

The world changes by the day, growing darker, more frightening, and it is now more than ever, that they need his guidance, his wisdom, his experience. Their agency is crumbling, so few still loyal to the cause, but even the agents that stay need leadership, a director to give orders and watch their backs.

Daisy tries to step up, to raise morale and rebuild, but it isn't quite the same. She's still so young, so inexperienced. Despite all the horrors she has already faced in her lifetime, she isn't yet ready for the responsibilities that are required of her. She needs time to learn to lead, and a great teacher to show her the ropes, the man she by all accounts considers a father.

She has so many fears, so many doubts about her capabilities, and the only other person she can turn to is the most vulnerable of them all.

Their team is missing their leader, a friend, part of their family, but Daisy knows that May is experiencing more grief than the rest of them combined.

She tries to imagine how it might feel to lose someone so close to you, compares it to the sorrow in her own heart when Lincoln had died.

It's pain and loss that she remembers, but she also knows how brief their relationship had been. From what she remembers, Coulson and May have known each other for longer than she has been alive, and she thinks the pain must be crippling, horrific, tearing one apart from the inside.

May is still as stoic as ever, taking orders and doing her job, but she's broken, hollow. Her silence had once been comforting, but it's now eerie, cold, like all the life has been taken from her. She's been this way for six months, seventeen days, four hours and fifty-five minutes, and Daisy isn't sure how much longer they can all go on like this.

They need to find Coulson, get him back as soon as they possibly can. Losing him is already too much to bear, and she doesn't even want to consider the possibility of losing May. She grows quieter, mentally retreating into the confines of her own mind, physically avoiding their company as much as she is able, and Daisy knows they have to double their efforts.

Without Coulson, they're just a group of people, stranded together. They all have the desire to help others, to protect, but they need someone to put their faith in, someone who has faith in them in return.

She truly believes that they can get him back, save him, and in turn, save themselves.

 

* * *

 

It's been seven months, three days, eighteen hours and twenty-two minutes since Phil's disappearance, and Melinda can't believe that he's standing here, in front of her.

Safe. Unharmed. All in one piece.

He looks different, not a drastic change but enough to have her pausing and doing a double take to make sure it's really him. His shoulders seem wider, stretching out his shirt, and he has a beard, dark scruffy hair covering the lower half of his face.

She can feel her team behind her, waiting for her to do something, to make the first step, but the truth is she doesn't know how to respond. It's been more than half a year since she last saw or heard from him, but it feels like a lifetime.

He's watching her too, just standing there, eyes locked on her and she wonders how she must look to him. Thinner, more haggard, exhausted from worry and lack of sleep.

She wants to run to him, hold him in her arms and tell him how much it's hurt her to not know if he was okay, or even still alive, and her hands tremble by her sides as she fights the urge to do so. There are tears welling up in her eyes, and she knows her team won't be judgemental, but it can't be good for morale if she breaks down and starts crying. She's been imagining this reunion since the moment he was taken from her, dreaming of it, of what they might say, of what might happen.

It's no secret that she'll follow Phil anywhere, but she never thought that she'd have to cross actual galaxies to get him back, to have him at her side once more, back on earth where they belong.

They've worked so hard, all of them, to get to where they are, but now, she doesn't know where they're headed and what to do. They're at a standstill, with so little, yet so much space between them, and nowhere else to go.

She remembers their conversation from down in the tunnels, the last time they spoke, properly, without others to hear. The memory has been at the front of her mind these past seven months, a new regret coming to light each time she replays it. They had spoken of taking a couple steps back, maybe reassessing their relationship, at least, that's what she had allowed herself to believe.

Honestly, she isn't so sure anymore.

She wants to kick herself for not saying something to him before, for not just telling him she wanted something more, but there had been so much fear then. Of course, the fear of losing him as a friend is nowhere near the pain of losing him physically, and she remembers exactly how it felt the first time he was taken from her. They're all imprinted in her mind, images of his funeral, his grave, Maria's voice as she informed her of his death.

Against all odds he had survived, and now he's survived again, but she doesn't know if she can, if she should lose him a third time.

So she stands there, waiting, giving him the chance to say something, anything. He had talked of taking steps back, and he will have to be the one to take a step forward and let her know just what it is that is on his mind.

It feels like forever, but Phil seems to finally get over his initial shock at seeing her again, and he moves in her direction. She doesn't know what to expect, but he's reaching out, and in a flash, she finds herself in a warm embrace. His arms are wrapped tightly around her, and she presses her face against the crook of his neck, her cheek brushing the exposed skin.

"I can't believe you're here," he mumbles, and how good it is to hear his voice once more. It sends chills down her spine and she almost shudders, despite how much heat there is between them and surrounding her, his arms like burning iron bands around her body, scorching her to the very core. They're in a space station in some far off galaxy, but she feels safer than she has in so long, just being here, with Phil beside her.

“Someone had to come and save your ass,” she tells him in response, pulling back to get a proper look at his face up close. The beard is different but everything else is the same, the familiar look in his deep blue eyes, one that makes her feel emotions that are very much not professional, and the smile, so genuine and so comforting.

He looks happy.

For a moment, no words are exchanged, only silence between them. Their team is getting ready for departure, because they're all eager to have both feet back on solid ground, and the two of them are almost alone in this big empty metal room, floating around in space. His eyes seem to roam her face, and she smiles back at him, the relief that he's okay lifting a weight off her shoulders.

“It's nice to see you again.”

Melinda has always been good at reading a situation, making the right choices, but with Phil, everything is more complicated, more difficult for her to handle. They're wrapped around one another, his arms locked tightly behind her back, her hands resting against his chest between them and she already knows how this will end.

They'll pull apart once more, and stay that way.

She doesn't want that.

“Phil.”

She whispers his name a moment before she leans up, her eyes falling shut as she presses a gentle kiss against his lips. They're soft, but his beard scratches at her skin, and she lingers only a moment before pulling back, eyes looking everywhere but his, afraid to see his reaction. Her worst fears feel like they're about to come true as she feels his arms loosening around her.

It's selfish of her, but she's glad to have gotten one last taste of him, knowing that there will never again be a chance like this in the future. They waited too long, well, she did. She and Phil could have had so much more if she had made different choices back then, had she not been afraid to ruin their friendship. He was ready, and she ran like a coward, into the arms of another man.

It's no surprise really that Phil has lost interest in anything more than a platonic friendship, maybe even less now.

She trains her gaze to the ground, staring at her shoes and his, waiting for him to pull away and end this once and for all. There's almost an instinct within her to apologise, but she can't bring herself to say the words, her throat closing up, her lungs drawing in less and less oxygen with each breath.

His hand enters her vision a moment before it moves up, and he's touching her, cupping her jaw and running a thumb over her cheek. He coerces her to face him once more, and she's so scared to hope, fearing he’ll run even as he closes the distance between them once more.

Their first kiss had been hesitant, a gentle touch initiated by her, a spur of bravery amongst many moments of fear.

The second is now, still soft and sweet, but neither of them are passive, and she wraps her arms around his neck to anchor herself against him.

They pull apart for barely a moment and then share their third, this one with more passion, more heat. His tongue enters her mouth, his hand weaving its way into her hair and her nails scratch at the back of his neck as they kiss. This time it's longer, more intimate, and neither of them are willing to end it until the need for air becomes a priority.

He's smiling, breathing a little more heavily as he leans down to rest his forehead against hers, and she doesn't know if she's ever been happier than this. How strange it is to let another person have such an effect on her, but then again, things have never really been normal with Phil.

“I'm glad we’re finally taking this step,” he whispers, and she closes her eyes, just savouring the moment. There is so much to look forward to in the future now, but she knows that today will forever be special in her heart. Their first real kiss, in space. All of her senses are overwhelmed. His skin is warm to the touch, the taste of him still lingering in her mouth, the sound of his breathing like music to her ears, his familiar scent all she inhales.

When she opens her eyes, she gazes into his, and knows that no beauty in the universe, not even all the stars in the sky, can compare the sparkle in his eyes.

The moment ends when they're interrupted, Elena’s shout coming from the far end of the room where they had entered earlier.

“Come on love birds, it's time to fly.”

They reluctantly pull from their quiet reunion, but she knows that there is no going back now. Their relationship has changed, for the better, or at least that’s how she feels, and they have the rest of their lives on earth to be together now.

Phil steals one last kiss, their fourth, before they untangle themselves from one another and head towards their team, trying their best not to smile like fools the entire way there.

They both fail.


	2. Chapter 2

The awkwardness begins the moment they arrive back at their new base. It's a far cry from what they're used to, but gives them protection all the same, and at the end of the day, surviving is all that really matters. Everything is in short supply, and agents bunk together in pairs because they aren't enough rooms to go around.

Melinda has her own space. It isn't much, but has an ensuite bathroom and is situated away from the others, allowing her privacy. There's a double bed, more than enough space for two, and she doesn't think twice before suggesting that Phil can share her room.

He looks surprised for a moment, before his expression morphs into one of satisfaction, and he looks like he wants to kiss her right there in the hallway, with all the gathered agents watching. She edges away slightly, frowning at his disappointment.

She wants nothing more than to continue where they left off, but it's too inappropriate in front of all these agents. They need to appear professional at the very least.

It's harder than she expects.

They walk side by side back to her living quarters, their arms brushing as they move down the hall. She swears she can feel Phil flexing his hand beside her, like he’s nervous about something, but she doesn't comment on it. They don't speak until they're inside her room, the door locked behind them, shutting out the rest of the world.

“I was hoping we would get more time together, to ourselves.”

His confession makes her smile, and she moves to sit down on the edge of her bed, running her hand over the new sheets. Someone, Simmons probably, has arranged for her rooms to be cleaned in preparation for Phil’s return. The fact that others had made the assumption the two of them would be staying together is a little alarming.

She looks up to see Phil standing over her, and just like he had upon their reunion, he places a hand on her cheek, his thumb brushing gently over the corner of her mouth. It’s strange that such a simple gesture feels this intimate, but she’s not averse to the sensations that are brought on by his touch. The excitement at seeing one another for the first time in so long has still yet to wear off, but now that they’re back, now that they’re home, the exhaustion is washing over her. Phil is not faring any better. From this angle, she can see the bags under his eyes, the deep set wrinkles in his forehead, the weariness in his every movement. They had strived for so long to get him back, and now that he’s here, she can finally let go, get the rest she’s been depriving her body of.

“Piper took some of the other agents back to the playground, tried to salvage what we could of the wreckage. They didn’t find much, but I kept your things over there,” she tells him softly, leaning into his hand, feeling his roughened palm against her cheek. She wants nothing more than to just lie back and pull him down with her, curl up into a peaceful slumber, but she knows the experience will be a thousand times better if they're both given a chance to clean up before bed.

“I have all I need right here,” he murmurs, and the words make her feel a strange kind of warmth, her heart beating a little faster. She reaches up to cup her hand over his, tracing his knuckles with her fingers, trying to convey her emotions through touch, to let him know she feels exactly the same way.

“I'm going to go and take a shower, get changed. There's a spare change of clothes for you in the closet.”

She squeezes his hand gently before letting go, pushing herself off the bed and into a standing position and already missing the contact between them. But the sooner they both get changed, relaxed, comfortable, the better.  
  


* * *

  
Melinda is sitting up in her bed, a pillow wedged between her back and the headboard, her eyes closed as she listens to the sound of Phil moving around in the bathroom. Her hair is still a little damp from the shower, despite having pulled it up into a messy bun beforehand, and she runs her fingers through the strands, smoothing out the tangles. The evening air is cold, even in an underground base, and her sleepwear, a simple long sleeved shirt and a pair of leggings do very little to provide any semblance of warmth.

She hears the bathroom door open, and then soft footsteps as Phil makes his way over to the bed. The mattress dips with his added weight, and when she feels him settle beside her, she allows her eyes to flutter open, trying to school the disappointment on her features as she takes in the view in front of her.

Phil’s beard is gone.

Her hand reaches out of its own accord, tracing the edge of his jaw, which is now as bare as the rest of his face. The clean shaven, suit wearing, version of Phil is more familiar to her, but she isn't averse to the scruffy, bearded, spaceman that had come back to her. She knows only bits and pieces about what he had been doing up there, but whatever it was had somehow broadened his chest and shoulders, firmed up the muscles in his arms. It doesn't matter to her what he looks like, really, only that he's safe, that he's here, though, she isn't going to pass up the opportunity to admire his physique.

“Melinda.”

Phil is watching her with an almost sappy expression, but she doesn't concentrate on that, rather the sound of her name coming from him. He so rarely used her first name, and she knows that the reason is purely out of professional courtesy, but she's always loved calling him “Phil”, instead of “Coulson”.

“Hmm?”

Her hand moves from his jaw to rest just over his heart, which is beating steadily beneath her palm.

“I'm really glad to be back.”

He smiles as he speaks, a small tug of his lips at the corners, small and gentle.

Genuine.

They lean in together, slowly, heads tilting to the sides and she feels complete once more as his lips capture hers. It could be fast, heated and heavy, lead to a sleepless night, skin on skin and their limbs a tangle. They could explore one another, enjoy physical intimacy, bring forth pleasure they've both denied for so long. But as with everything else between them, they choose to wait.

Phil’s fingers are twirling a strand of her hair as they part, and she notices the pure fascination in his eyes as he wraps a curl around his finger.

“Your hair is longer,” he comments, and where she may have normally rolled her eyes at him, this time she just nods. Her eyelids feel heavier, and they're both tired, quite possibly more so than they've ever been.

It's time to rest now.

They lay side by side on their backs, staring up at the darkened ceiling until they drift off into a dreamless sleep. The gap between them is small, but very much like an endless chasm between two universes. While it had been lost before in the excitement of seeing one another again, it’s evident now, visible for none but them to see.  
  


* * *

  
Her morning routine has always been strict, by the clock, and a comforting part of her day. It's nice to have something that she can control, a constant event in her day to day life that keeps her sane. For Melinda, adhering to her schedule has never been difficult, but then again, she's never had to wake up beside Phil, not like this. In the past they've shared beds, tents, sleeping bags even, but all for purposes unrelated to their feelings for one another. Boundaries prevented her from doing anything but waking, and turning her back to him.

Those lines they drew have been erased now, and as she blinks awake just before five in the morning, she wants nothing more than to roll over, curl up beside Phil and sleep to their heart's content. She finds herself staring at the ceiling, and turns on her side, a small smile tugging at her lips when she sees the sight before her.

Phil is lying on his back, one arm thrown over his head and the other hanging off the bed. His hair is mussed, mouth slightly open, a little drool at the corner and she's never seen him more relaxed than now. Carefully, she smoothes back his hair with her hand, trailing her fingers across his temple, and then pulling back. He needs his rest and she would hate to wake him so early in the day.

She slips out of bed as silently as she can manage, grabbing a change of clothes and heading into the bathroom to get ready. Training always begins on time, and she's often given Daisy flack for turning up late. The prospect of being on the receiving end doesn't sound quite so amusing.

Phil is still sleeping when she enters her room once more, but has turned over onto his side, and shifted towards the middle of the bed, his head now resting on her pillow. The covers have been pushed halfway down the bed, and unable to help herself, Melinda moves to pull them up so he doesn't catch a chill with the temperature in the room. He shifts a little as she tucks the covers back around him, and she leans down brushing a kiss to his temple.

Showing such physical affection isn't unfamiliar to her, but it's been quite some time since she's had the chance, and she enjoys doing so. It's easier when he's asleep though… it's difficult to face the truth at times, but the reality of it all is that she's afraid. Change is terrifying, and she needs this to work out. It's so easy to be herself around him, but she also fears showing this side of her. When it comes to relationships, Phil is too unpredictable, and she's not sure how he may react… she cares too much about what he thinks of her.

He means more to her than words could ever describe.

She isn't quite ready to admit that out loud yet though, and settles for another kiss, this time to his cheek, before leaving him be.

He deserved a chance to have a lie in now and again, after all, he did save the world.  
  


* * *

  
Daisy is already in the training room when she arrives, warming up in one corner, stretching out her muscles. Piper is sitting beside her, doing the same thing, the pair engaged in a quiet conversation. They don't have much equipment, but they have to make do with what they've been able to acquire, a couple of old training mats that aren't quite thick enough to make landing on them comfortable.

Melinda doesn't speak, but makes an effort to have an audible entrance so as to not startle the pair, who look to her in surprise when they see she has joined them.

“May, we weren't expecting you.”

She frowns, preparing to ask why they had come to such a conclusion when Piper speaks up, a flush rapidly spreading across her cheeks with each word.

“Well, it's just that Daisy said that, well you and Agent Coulson, and we assumed you would…”

Melinda raises a brow, trying not to let the implication that she and Phil would be too busy in bed together for her to make it training bring about any visible reaction. Daisy not so subtly nudges Piper’s arm, signalling for her to stop talking before she gets them into any more trouble, and Melinda simply rolls her eyes, gesturing for them to rise.

She has no doubt that they'll be gossiping about this later, and finds herself wishing she cared a little more. The rather impulsive kisses she and Phil had shared during his retrieval were witnessed only by a few members of their team, but she's willing to bet just about anything that there isn't a single person on base that doesn't know of the events that transpired.

For agents, they're all terrible at keeping secrets.  
  


* * *

  
When Phil wakes, he is alone.

The room is still dark as he looks around, the lights switched off and no windows to allow in any from the sun. He sits up, still groggy, yawning as he rubs his eyes with the back of his real hand. He doesn't know how long it'll take to get used to this, being back on earth, but barely a day has passed and he has plenty of time now to get used to it once more.

He flexes his fingers, stretches his arms above his head before throwing off the covers and getting out of bed.

It's strange having both feet on solid ground again; space had felt very much like living in the Zephyr, constantly in the air, never really getting to touch down. The room is so quiet, whereas his living quarters before were loud. People often said that space was silent, but the bases there weren’t, machinery constantly whirring with noise, and he doesn't miss it at all.

Home is so peaceful in comparison.

He pads around the room, trying to search for some sign of what time it is, when the door opens behind him.

“Hey, I didn't think you'd be up yet.”

Melinda is standing there, a mug in her hand and a gentle smile on her face. Her hair is up in a ponytail, he can see the sheen of sweat on her skin, and he realises she must have just finished with training for the morning.

It can't be much later than seven.

He nods, and her expression softens even further, a feat he considers impressive considering the mask of indifference she so often makes a point to wear. She sets down her mug before moving towards him, stopping when they're standing inches away from one another and he realises he has no idea what's supposed to happen next.

Should he greet her with a kiss, or hold her in his arms like his gut is telling him to do? Or would it be on poor taste to act based purely on his instinct? They share a room, a bed, they're surely in a relationship now, and he knows of all the things people who are dating do. The only problem is he doesn't really know what this is.

But they're here together, and that's all that should really matter to him.

“Fitzsimmons are preparing breakfast… you should go and eat something.”

She squeezes his arm when she finishes speaking, turning away and heading for the bathroom without another word. He watches her go, gaze unwavering until she disappears from his sight.

They can work on this, he truly believes it. All relationships are awkward in the beginning, and they've been friends for so long. It's difficult to adjust to the change, to remind himself that he doesn't have to hold back. They can kiss if they want to, touch one another, speak of things they were previously too afraid to say.

Things can only get better from here on out.


	3. Chapter 3

It's been eighteen days, one hour and forty-seven minutes since Phil’s return to earth, and Melinda feels the tension between them growing with each passing minute. She thinks it would be worse, if they had the chance to see one another at all during the day.

Simmons had cleared Phil for active duty on day four, and since then, the only times they've spoken to one another are right before bed, if one of them hadn't already been asleep before the other returned. She knew from day one that if she were ever to be in a relationship with Phil, it would not be easy. The job always comes first, even now, nearly thirty years later, after both their deaths and subsequent resurrections.

Being with another person, constantly sharing a space, it's hard, even worse when they're having so much difficulty communicating with one another. There was a time in the past, where they hardly had to speak to know what the other was thinking, and now, she has no idea how he feels.

Honestly, she's not quite sure how she feels.

She knows that she wants this, and she’ll fight for it if she has to. They’ve lost so much time already, too afraid to take the next step, and she doesn't know if they have another thirty years to spare, not in this line of work. 

They're lying back to back, with the lights turned out, and she thinks he must be asleep already. Deep down, she knows that they'll have to have an honest conversation to fix this, to move on, and she can't let the fear stop her from seeking what it is she truly wants.

To be with him, in every way.

They'll both have to take steps forward to make this work, and she already knows what her first one is going to be. 

Hopefully, Daisy won't mind if she misses training tomorrow, just the once.

 

* * *

 

When she opens her eyes the next morning, just before five, she closes them again, shuffling closer to Phil, who is still sound asleep beside her. He's lying on his back as usual, and she invades his space, resting her head on his chest, curling up against his side. Her hair fans out over both their pillows, and she lays her arm across his body, soaking up the natural warmth that their proximity provides.

She thinks she might be able to get used to this.

Her slumber now is very light; she can't often sleep past six in the morning, but it's just so nice to allow herself this for once. Phil is quite still in his sleep, and she nearly jumps when he shifts out of nowhere, the arm beneath her body moving, before settling around her.

They're holding one another, and in this moment, she feels as safe as she has ever been, surrounded, protected, by someone she trusts with her life.

 

* * *

 

He feels different.

It's almost too warm when he wakes up, and he tries to fix that by throwing the covers off when he realises that there's another reason for the overwhelming heat surrounding him.

Melinda.

She's wrapped up around him, her body almost halfway on top of his, and a strand of her hair is tickling his cheek. It's all he can to do not tilt his head down to bury his face against it, seeking the familiar scent that always made him feel like he was home. 

He almost can't believe that they're here, like this, but it feels too real to be a dream. 

Melinda has far too much discipline, even while unconscious, to do anything she doesn't want to, and his heart beats a little faster at the thought of her cozying up to him, on purpose. It's all the confirmation he needs.

Her hand his resting against his shoulder, and he moves his to cover hers, brushing his fingertips along her knuckles, and then lacing their fingers together, giving a gentle squeeze. She's made the first step. Now it's his turn.

“Good morning.”

He feels her shift, reluctantly letting go of her hand as she moves, and a moment later he finds her leaning down over him, her curls cascading down her shoulders. She looks hesitant, and he offers her a smile, reaching up to brush his thumb against her cheek.

There are a million things he wants to tell her in this moment, but he doesn't know what to say first. She doesn't give him a chance to decide, leaning down and pressing their lips together.

This kiss starts off gentle, like all the ones they've shared before, but things begin to heat up and before he knows it, he's pressing her down into the mattress, sucking bruises into her neck as she lets out quiet gasps of pleasure. She curls an arm around him, fingers carding through the short strands of his hair as he trails his fingers up and down her side, inching her tank top with every pass. 

“I’m already late for training,” Melinda eventually gasps out. It’s a weak protest that Phil ignores, continuing his heated kisses, hands wandering even further. She laughs when he finally pulls away, short of breath, and runs her finger along his jaw, feeling the stubble beneath her touch. 

“I’m sure Daisy won’t mind if you miss it altogether.”

She scoffs, and he steals one last kiss before rolling over onto his back and letting her escape. He quickly pulls the covers back over his body as she climbs out of bed, watching her move about the room with an expression that hopefully, she doesn’t mistake for creepiness. 

“I’ll see you later,” she calls softly before she leaves, and as soon as the door shuts behind her, he pulls her pillow over his face to silence a groan. 

He is in for very long, very cold shower, but to be quite honest, he really doesn't mind. It’s a little cheesy, but Phil wants their first time to be special, after a proper date. They've waited so long for this, and he wants to treat her the way she deserves to be treated, with love and respect, and all the care in the world, like she does for him.

 

* * *

 

It's been ten days, fourteen hours and thirty-seven minutes since that morning, the one where she almost missed training completely, to spend time with Phil in their room, and had to deal with Daisy’s less than subtle remarks for days afterward.

Things are slowly but surely getting better, though, she's one hundred percent sure Phil is keeping something from her. The time for secrets is long behind them, but she also doesn't want to pressure him into telling her. It's nearly torn them apart before, and she can't bear to let that happen again. 

She does try to express her worry though, asking him if everything is fine when he finally comes to bed at night. 

“You’ve been gone more often,” she comments as he takes her hand, just holding it in his larger one. Phil likes the physical contact, she can tell, and she can also tell that something isn't quite right when his expression falls, and he refuses to look her in the eye.

“I'm sorry,” he offers, instead of an explanation, and she chooses to trust him, because she always does. He’ll tell her when he's ready to, but it still stings that he feels the need to keep things from her, even now.

She nods, demonstrating her understanding, and gives him a quick kiss before shuffling over to her side of the bed, turning her back to him and closing her eyes. His sigh is audible as he reaches over her to turn out the lights and as much as this bothers her, she knows something else must be bothering him just as badly.

Could it be the voices inside his head, like the ones she had inside hers, a result of two lives coexisting within one mind? She knows what real and what isn't, but the memories still remain, no matter how hard she tries to rid herself of them. They don't bother her anymore, not since Phil’s return. It's so much easier to know which life is true when he's here, anchoring her, reminding her that a world where they knew nothing of each other could never be real. 

Even when he was gone she still had the team, still had Daisy to support her. When she was younger, she tried to fight her own battles, but she’s learnt in the time since then, that conquering these demons will always be easier with someone there to help you, to stand by you. Out there, Phil had nobody. No one he could trust anyway. She can't even begin to imagine how difficult it must be for him. 

He shifts behind her, and she can feel him reaching out towards her, his hand hovering inches above her hip, afraid to pull her closer without her permission. She's still upset that he cannot confide in her, but she can't let them go to sleep at odds with one another, so she shuffles backwards towards him until her back meets his chest.

“Goodnight, Melinda,” he whispers, his arm coming to wrap around her waist. She allows herself to relax into his embrace as he presses a kiss to the crown of her head. Whatever it is that's bothering him, he'll tell her when he's ready to talk about it.

Whenever he makes that choice to confide in her, she’ll be ready to listen. 


	4. Chapter 4

It's been twelve days, nineteen hours and six minutes since Melinda asked Phil what it was that was bothering him, and tonight, she's more suspicious than ever.

He's been taking a lot of time off base in the past week, and when she had asked Daisy of his whereabouts earlier today, the younger woman had shrugged, before responding that she had no idea. Melinda wonders if Daisy has any idea how terrible of a liar she still is.

She tries to ignore the part of her mind that is irrationally panicking over it, desperate to know what he's keeping from her, but it's easier said than done. In an effort to distract herself from her thoughts, she trains twice as hard with her team, and volunteers to cover all administrative duties just to give herself something else to focus her attentions on. 

None of it can stop her mind from wandering, but it's better than having no distractions at all.

 

* * *

 

Her working day ends just past seven in the evening, and she wonders how it is possible that they've run out of paperwork for her to bury herself in. Things like this just don't happen when you're filing mission reports, completing forms and forging documents for an international peacekeeping organisation.

Quite reluctantly, she leaves the communal office space, hoping to head back to her room for a moment alone before she ventures into the kitchen looking for food. The halls are unsurprisingly empty at this time of day, with everyone else occupied somewhere, doing something. She appreciates the silence, knowing how chaotic dinner will probably be, with nearly every agent on base scrambling to eat.

When she reaches the door to her bedroom, she can see a sliver of light coming from the gap beneath the door, and she realises Phil must be back. Her weariness at his suspicious behaviour fades almost immediately; she's eager to see him, maybe spend some time alone with him. They barely have the opportunity to just sit down and share a meal, and she misses him more than probably healthy.

Sighing, she turns the handle, pushing open the door and stepping inside, freezing in her tracks as she takes in the sight before her.

The door slams shut behind her, but she barely notices the sound, unable to tear her eyes away from the display in the centre of her room. There's a round table, covered with a white cloth, edges lined with lace. It's set for two, a vase of fresh daisies standing in between a pair of covered dishes, and she wonders why she didn't see this coming.

She does sense someone moving behind her, and wonders how long Phil had been standing behind the door, waiting for her to return. It takes a fair amount of restraint to not turn towards him, just standing still until she feels he is right there behind her. His breath tickles her neck a moment before his arms slip around her waist, pulling her into a tight embrace.

“Hey.”

His lips brush the shell of her ear as he greets her, and she tries to conceal the shiver it causes, but knows she has failed when he chuckles. He presses a kiss at the junction between her shoulder and her neck, and she leans back against him, content to be in his arms.

“What's all this?” she asks, even though she already knows the answer.

“It's a date,” he responds, even though he knows that she's clearly already aware.

For the first time they're making an effort to communicate verbally, and they both know now that truly, things can only get better from here on out.

 

* * *

 

Phil is a perfect gentleman. 

Melinda has known this since the day they met, and secretly envied whoever he might end up choosing as a life partner. She had imagined, but never truly believed that it could be her.

He pulls out her chair for her, resting his hand on her back as he guides her to take a seat, and it almost feels like he's using every possible excuse to touch her. 

She would be lying if she said she didn't enjoy it.

Dinner isn't perfect.

The food is lukewarm, the steak a tad overcooked and the mashed potatoes are lumpier than a twenty year old mattress.

It doesn't matter though.

When they're done eating, he reaches for her hand, and they spend much too long just smiling at one another from across the table.

“I like the flowers,” she says, and they share a laugh at that, with Phil informing her afterwards that Daisy had insisted, wanting to remind them of her during their date, without actually being a third wheel.

It's so nice to just sit and spend time together, nowhere else to rush off to, no missions, nothing but one another. By all means the world outside these walls is nonexistent, and they have eyes only for one another. She asks no questions as he stands, pulling her with him.

Wherever he goes, she will follow, no questions asked.

He leads her to sit down on the bed, stealing a quick kiss and telling her to stay put for just a moment. For the fun of it, she pretends to put up a fuss, refusing to release his hand until he kisses her again. She laughs when he makes to run from her, but she does sit still, waiting for him to return with whatever it is that he's so excited to show her. He calls out for her to close her eyes, and she rolls them at him before reluctantly doing so, making a show of covering them with her hands so as to not peek.

She can hear his footsteps as he makes his way back to her, and she frowns when the sounds stop, not feeling the bed dip beside her. 

“You can open them now.”

His voice is so close to her, and she wonders where he might be, removing her hands, folding them in her lap before slowly letting her eyes open once more. She swallows thickly as she takes in the sight before her.

Phil is down on one knee, and she almost wants to laugh at how cliche this moment is, but instead focuses her attention on what is in his hands. 

It's a bottle of Haig. 

Not theirs, he'd confessed to drinking that one already, likely with the robotic clone of herself that no one would speak about. The bottle is identical, and had she not spent so many nights holding the original in her hands, wondering if she should take that step and crack it open with him, she might not have noticed the difference. 

“I wanted us to share this one together. The Haig, it always meant so much more to me than celebrating our survival after a bad mission. I… I always thought there was something more meaningful behind us cracking it open together. I don't know if you felt the same way back then, but I'm hoping you'll do me the honour, of sharing this one with me.”

Phil holds the bottle up to her as he finishes his speech, and she takes it in one hand, pulling him to sit beside her with the other.

“I've always felt the same way,” she confesses, staring at the bottle in her hands as she speaks. She can feel him watching her intently, and she takes a deep breath, twisting open the cap, breaking the seal for the first and last time.

The whiskey burns her throat as she takes the first sip, exhaling roughly when she's done, the bottle still tight in her hands. A little liquid courage is just what she needs to say the things that have been on her mind.

“I didn't cope very well while you were gone… I thought I had lost you again, and I had no idea how I was going to get you back.”

She feels better after her confession, and hands the bottle over to Phil, waiting as he takes a shot himself.

“I tried to bury these feelings that I have for you, but I realised just how much I wanted to be with you. When I cracked open our Haig with robot you, I had no idea she was fake. I told you that she tried to kill me, but, the truth is, there's more to the story than that.”

Phil’s hands are shaking, and Melinda steals the Haig from his grasp before he can drop it and waste yet another bottle. She screws the cap back on, setting it on the ground by her feet, and turns her full attention back to him. He sounds so ashamed as he relays the story of how he had embarked on a relationship with her LMD copy, how that had culminated in a kiss, just moments before the robot had been activated and tried to kill him. 

She realises now why he had been so squirrelly about telling her. 

He was afraid of her reaction, her judgement, just as she puts so much value in his opinion of her. She doesn't base her self-worth off of what others think of her, but Phil has always been important, the only one that truly matters when it comes to her heart. 

Phil still looks so hesitant, even after she tells him that everything is okay, and she reaches out to him, physically, taking his left hand in both of hers. His fingers are balled tightly in a fist, and she runs her own over them, coaxing them to unfurl, not wanting any damage to come to it.

Fitz had spent quite some time perfecting its design after all.

The minutes fly by as they sit together, and slowly, he relaxes, until his hand is lying in her lap, and she's stroking over his palm with her fingers. The patterns that light up will never cease to amaze her, and she wonders why his hand doesn't always do that. 

“Fitz said that it's linked to my emotions,” he tells her when she asks, and she thinks back to that time in his office, not long after he'd gotten back from that alien planet. She had touched his hand then too, and the lights had danced across his skin.

He finally smiles as she does it again, and she returns the expression, so relieved that they're able to get things off their chest and finally communicate. 

There's so much she wants to tell him, so much she wants to hear, to learn, and tonight is the night for new discoveries. She retrieves the bottle from the ground, and it becomes kind of a game for them, passing it back and forth, making one confession after each sip they take. 

By the time midnight rolls around, they're both buzzed, cheeks flushed, and being responsible adults, they stow the liquor away. She tucks it in a box inside her closet, nestling it between a framed photograph of them taken during Peggy’s retirement party, and a hideous fridge magnet he had picked up for her as a souvenir back in the day. 

He's watching her with an expression she can't quite pinpoint as she makes her way back over, and she realises where the evening is headed when he pulls her into his lap, pressing a kiss to the underside of her jaw.

“You still owe me one secret,” he whispers, and she laughs, wrapping her arms around his neck to stop herself from sliding off. Neither of them are entirely sober, and taking a tumble will not end their evening on a high note. 

“Oh really?”

He trails kisses along the length of her neck and she squirms as he nips at the skin, teasing it with his teeth.

“Yes, really.”

She pretends to consider it for a moment, softly swatting the back of his head as he blows a raspberry into the crook of her neck. He pulls away reluctantly, eyes wide with amusement, and she leans over until her mouth is right beside his ear.

“I want you.”

He laughs as they pull away from another. It's just for a moment, a split second of time and space between them before they're joined once more, expressing through actions, rather than words, their true desires. 

There's no more hesitancy as they take what it is they want, no, what they need.

Each other.


	5. Chapter 5

It’s been three months, two days, seven hours and eighteen minutes since Phil’s return to earth, and things are not as they used to be. The world that they live in is changing around them, as it always does, but that only reinforces the bond between them as a team, as a group of people who see the bigger picture, and are united in a single cause. When things are terrifying, having something to hold on can only make things easier to cope with.

Melinda has a new routine now.

She still wakes long before the sun rises, her eyes slowly blinking in the darkness, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips, grateful for another restful night’s sleep. That’s not something she feels will ever change, being an early riser, having done so for so many years already. Ironically, she doesn’t have much control over it. What has changed though, is what she does afterwards.

Whereas before she had always been quick to leave her bed, now she lingers, curling up beside Phil and just enjoying the little peace they have together, before the day begins and they’re pulled from one another once more. It doesn’t matter how he’s sleeping, she’ll find a way for them to be wrapped up in one another. Sometimes he awakens before she has to leave, and they share morning kisses, lying side by side, savouring each and every time their lips meet. Often he doesn’t stir at all, and she leaves him sleeping as she goes about getting ready for training, always pausing for a moment to just watch him before she leaves.

It’s these little things, she’s begun to learn, that matter most of all, stopping to appreciate what is right there in front of her.

Training has changed too. She’s still Daisy’s mentor, and they train together, along with Elena, Piper and anyone else who wishes to join them at the crack of dawn. Her teaching methods are the same, but now she tries to take a step back now and again, giving Daisy an opportunity to take the lead.

She can still recall the over-confident young hacker that they picked up on their first mission in Los Angeles, and marvels at just how much she has grown in the few years since then. At heart, Daisy is still the same as she has ever been, but so much more mature now, truly understanding how the world works. She’s immensely proud of all her accomplishments, and sees a day in the future where S.H.I.E.L.D. blossoms once more under her leadership.

Of course, Melinda doesn’t admit it out loud, knowing it will probably go to her head before that day comes. She’s not ready, not yet, and it’s nice to let her just be part of the team, instead of having to worry about making the hard calls, carrying the weight of the world upon her shoulders. Until the day that she is, Melinda will continue to protect her, to do what it takes to make sure that she survives until then.

She knows that Phil is doing the same thing.

 

* * *

 

Training is always followed by a shower, to wash off the sweat, to allow her some peace and quiet, away from any other company.

It’s not quite so anymore.

The team follows her lead during sessions, and training doesn’t end until she says so, but more often than not now, their silence and poorly concealed smirks signal to her that they’re done for the day.

Today is one of those days.

She dismisses them, waits for them to quickly file out, and turns to see Phil leaning against the door, a bottle of water in his hands.

“Maybe we should go a few rounds,” she tells him, taking the water and downing half the bottle in one go. He waits until she is finished drinking, before pulling her close and pressing a kiss to the crown of her head, despite her quiet protests that she’s sweaty.

“Maybe we should,” he responds, a goofy smile on his face. She rolls her eyes at him, but allows him to take her hand, locking their fingers together as they make their way down the halls and back to their room.

Within three minutes they’re standing under scalding water, locked in a passionate embrace as they make the most of the little time they’re afforded. Slow, lazy kisses and wandering hands, often leaving them wanting more. They’re not always satisfied when they leave the shower stall, but that only means more to look forward to in the evening.

The team gives them their space during breakfast, and they have eyes only for one another as he cooks, speaking in hushed tones about what they have planned for the day. She smiles as he rambles on about nonsensical things as they eat, and gives his hand a gentle squeeze before they part ways for the day.

 

* * *

 

They’re not always apart.

With such a small team, they very often find themselves working together, but keep up a professional front, drawing a line between the job and their relationship. It’s not always clear where one ends and the other begins, because to Melinda, Phil is the embodiment of S.H.I.E.L.D., the protector, and part of the reason why she fights so hard each and every day is because of him.

All the dangers they face, the things she’s suffered through, are worth it.

 

* * *

 

Some days they do linger in the training room after their team files out, sparring together as they frequently did in their younger days. Nine times out of ten, Melinda ends up pinning Phil to the ground, straddling his waist with a wicked grin.

“You’re getting a little rusty.”

Phil chuckles at her words, faking a pout. Melinda isn’t one to fall for his tricks, but she can’t resist the expression, grin softening into a smile, leaning down and pressing her lips against his. He doesn’t let her pull away, hands slipping up to grip her hips, and she takes his hint, resting her palms against his chest as they deepen their kiss.

“We’re good at this though, aren’t we?”

Melinda trails a finger along Phil’s jaw as they pull apart, sighing softly at his words. She can hear that he’s trying to be confident, smug, but also a hint of insecurity. Leaning down, she rests her forehead against his, the tips of their noses brushing together, feeling his body relax beneath hers.

“Yes, we are. _Honey.”_

His laughter startles her only moments before she joins in, and she loses focus for just a moment, enough for him to gain the upper hand and flip her onto her back, climbing above her and pinning her to the mats.

“Did I distract you? _Darling?”_

Melinda rolls her eyes at Phil’s cocky grin, pulling him down for another kiss, looping her arms around his body to hold him against her. Neither of them particularly revel in public displays of affection, but being together means the ability to lose some of the control they always strive so hard to keep, and in the safety of their own base, they find themselves losing control more often than not.

Phil’s hand is halfway up her shirt when the door to the training room is thrown open, and they reluctantly part, turning to see Daisy and Elena staring at them.

“Seriously? Again?”

Daisy pretends to gag, quickly running off, while Elena just smirks, reaching for the door with one hand.

“Put your sock on the doorknob next time,” is the last thing they hear before they’re alone once more, Phil laughing against Melinda’s shoulder at the words.

 

* * *

 

The reality of it is, that it’s never going to be easy.

They’ve both faced terrors in their past, experienced things that others will only ever hear tales of, lost their friends, their partners, their own lives. There is no going back, there’s only moving forward, and while the future is by far scarier than what they have already lived through, it doesn’t stop the memories of events gone by from haunting them in their dreams.

It’s not so dramatic as waking up in the middle of the night, screaming into the abyss, but so often one of them will lie there, unable to sleep, struggling to let go of the things in their mind.

They make their confessions to one another in the dark, talk about their demons, their fears, and it becomes just that bit easier to breathe, the crushing weight on their chests fading away.

A promise is made, to share with one another a secret each evening, to learn all that they haven't yet.

 

* * *

 

Sometimes, all is right with the world, and they're both able to rest, peacefully.

Melinda curls up against Phil, resting her head upon his chest as she likes to do, and he brushes a kiss against her hair. He's reading through reports that don't concern her, but she's content to lie there, and help him turn the page.

When they're ready to sleep, he removes his glasses, setting them on the night stand and they close the little distance between them, leaving no room, no space.

“Tell me a secret,” he says, and she smiles, because there is very little that concerns her tonight.

“You mean a lot to me.”

It's hardly a secret, but makes him chuckle in the darkness, and she leans in as he does, letting their lips touch.

“Tell me a secret,” she whispers against his lips, and he pulls her in, impossibly closer, his hand spanning the small of her back.

Their foreheads are touching, the tips of their noses brushing, when he repeats the words he's said to her many nights now.

“You mean everything to me.”

**Author's Note:**

> a massive thank you to stinis and yasmin who helped me with this one :) also a huge thank you to everyone who has left me feedback. it was a blast writing this, and i'm so happy to have shared it with you all!


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